[jJl When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping. I prop myself up on one elbow. There's enough light in the bedroom to see them. My little sister, Prim, curled up on her side, cocooned pressed together.

in my mother's body, their cheeks

In sleep, my mother looks younger, still

worn but not so beaten-down.

Prim's face is as fresh as a

raindrop, as lovely as the primrose for which she was named. My mother was very beautiful once, too. Or so they tell me. Sitting at Prim's knees, guarding her, is the world's ugliest cat. Mashed-in

nose, half of one ear missing, eyes the

color of rotting squash. Prim named him Buttercup, insisting that his muddy yellow coat matched the bright flower. He hates me. Or at least distrusts me. Even though it was years ago, I think he still remembers how I tried to drown him in a bucket when Prim brought him home. Scrawny kitten, belly swollen with worms, crawling with fleas. The last thing I needed was another mouth

to feed. But Prim

begged so hard, cried even, I had to let him stay. It turned out okay. My mother got rid of the vermin and he's a born

3

mouser. Even catches the occasional clean a kill, I feed Buttercup

rat. Sometimes,

the entrails.

when I

He has stopped

hissing at me. Entrails.

we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity

in the

evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence

No hissing.

This

is the closest we will ever

come to love.

is live. Right

now, it's silent as a stone. Concealed

by a

clump of bushes, I flatten out on my belly and slide under a

I swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting

two-foot stretch that's been loose for years. There are several

boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on

other weak spots in the fence, but this one is so close to

trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and

home I almost always enter the woods here.

grab my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to

As soon as I'm in the trees, I retrieve a bow and sheath

protect it from hungry rats and cats alike, sits a perfect little

of arrows from a hollow log. Electrified

goat cheese wrapped

in basil leaves. Prim's gift to me on

has been successful at keeping the flesh-eaters out of District

reaping day. I put the cheese carefully in my pocket as I slip

12. Inside the woods they roam freely, and there are added oncerns like venomous

outside. Our part of District

12, nicknamed

the Seam, is usually

crawling with coal miners heading out to the morning at this hour.

Men

swollen knuckles,

and women

with

hunched

shift

shoulders,

their sunken

on the squat gray houses are closed. The

reaping isn't until two. May as well sleep in. If you can. Our house is almost

at the edge of the Seam. I only

have to pass a few gates to reach the scruffy field called the Meadow.

Separating

the Meadow

enclosing all of District with barbed-wire trified twenty-four tors that

find it. My father knew and he taught

12, is a high chain-link

hours a day as a deterrent packs

that used to threaten

to be elec-

to the preda-

of wild

dogs, lone

our streets. But since

me some before he

ven to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming

for him to run.

Even though

trespassing

in the woods

is illegal and

poaching carries the severest of penalties, more people would risk it if they had weapons.

But most are not bold enough

venture out with just a knife. My bow is a rarity, crafted

t

hy my father along with a few others that I keep well hid-

in fact

fence topped

loops. In theory, it's supposed

live in the woods -

cougars, bears -

from the woods,

and no real

was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing

faces. But today the black cinder streets are

empty. Shutters

snakes, rabid animals,

paths to follow. But there's also food if you know how to

many who have long since stopped trying

to scrub the coal dust out of their broken nails, the lines of

or not, the fence

[en in the woods, carefully wrapped

in waterproof

covers.

My father could have made good money selling them, but if t

he officials found out he would have been publicly executed

1'01'

inciting

a rebellion.

Most of the Peacekeepers

turn

a

blind eye to the few of us who hunt because they're as hunj'fY for fresh meat as anybody

is. In fact, they're among our

best customers.

"Hey, Catnip,"

But the idea that someone might be arming

the Seam would never have been allowed. In the fall, a few brave souls sneak into the woods to

says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but

when I first told him,

I had barely whispered

thought

Then when this crazy lynx started

I'd said Catnip.

harvest apples. But always in sight of the Meadow. Always

following

close enough to run back to the safety of District

it became his official nickname

12 if trou-

ble arises. "District

Twelve. Where you can starve to death

in safety," I mutter.

Then I glance quickly over my shoul-

der. Even here, even in the middle of nowhere,

you worry

things I would blurt out about District Panem,

it

his pelt.

the flat, dense loaves we make from our grain rations. I take it in my hands, pull out the arrow, and hold the puncture in the crust to my nose, inhaling

market.

Discuss

little

"Mm,

Games.

In the woods waits the only. person with whom I can be

I say. He must

have been at the did it

ost you?" "Just a squirrel.

Think

mental this morning,"

the old man was feeling senti-

says Gale. "Even wished me luck."

"Well, we all feel a little closer today, don't we?" I say,

Prim might

begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?

still warm,"

bakery at the crack of dawn to trade for it. "What

where I make most of my money. Even at home, where I am

or the Hunger

that makes

ial occasions.

is the black market

tricky topics. Like the reap-

the fragrance

my mouth flood with saliva. Fine bread like this is for spe-

mask so that no one could

trades in the Hob, which

ing, or food shortages,

regretted

because he wasn't bad company. But I got a decent price for

Do my work quietly in school. Make

less pleasant, I avoid discussing

for me. I finally had to kill

12, about the people

this would only lead us

only polite small talk in the public more than

for handouts,

an arrow stuck in it, and I laugh. It's real bakery bread, not

to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn

ever read my thoughts.

looking

to death, the

from the far-off city called

the Capitol. Eventually I understood

my features into an indifferent

woods

"Look what I shot." Gale holds up a loaf of bread with

I was younger, I scared my mother

who rule our country,

the

the lynx because he scared off game. I almost

someone might overhear you. When

me around

it. So he .

not even bothering

to roll my eyes. "Prim left us a cheese." I

pull it out. His expression brightens at the treat. "Thank

myself Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my

you, Prim.

pace quickening

as I climb the hills to our place, a rock

We'll have a real feast." Suddenly

ledge overlooking

a valley. A thicket of berry bushes protects

:t

it from unwanted

eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings

w man who arrives once a year to read out the names at the

on a' smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.

I'

cent as he mimics

Effie Trinket,

he falls into a Capitol the maniacally

upbeat

aping. "I almost forgot! Happy Hunger Games!" He plucks 1

I

a few blackberries odds -"

fro~ the bushes around us. "And may the

this place, we are invisible but have a clear view of the val-

He tosses a berry in a high arc toward me.

I catch it in my mouth and break the delicate Iskin with my teeth. "-

The sweet 'fartness

explodes

mr

across

tongue.

be ever in your favor!" I finish with equal verve. We

have to joke about it because the alternative

of their berries. We settle back in a nook in the rocks. From

is to ibe scared

ley, which is teeming

with summer' life, greens to gather,

roots' to dig, fish iridescent in the sunlight.

The day is glori-

ous, with a blue sky and soft breeze. The food's wonderful, with the cheese seeping into the warm bread and the berries

out of your wits. Besides, the Capitol accenf is so, affected,

bursting in our mouths.

almost anything

really was a holiday, if all the day off meant was roaming

sounds funny in it.

Everything

would be perfect if this

I

I watch as Gale pulls out his knife and slices the bread. ,

with Gale, hunting

for tonight's

He could be my brother. Straight black hair, olive skin, we

instead we have to be standing

even have the same gray' eyes. But we're not related, at least

waiting for the names to be called out.

supper. But

in the square at two o'clock

not closely. Most of the families who work the mines resem-

"We could do it, you know," Gale says quietly.

ble one another this way.

"What?"

That's why my mother

and Prim, with their light hair

and blue eyes, always look out of place. They mother's parents were part of the small merchant caters to officials, customer. District

Peacekeepers,

They ran an ap~thecary

are. My class that

and the occasional

Seam

shop in thejnicer

part of

12. Since almost no one can afford d02tors, apothe,

i

caries are our healers. My, father got to know my mother I

because on his hunts he wduld sometimes

collect medicinal

I ask.

"Leave the district. Run off. Live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," says Gale. I

don't

know

be. Gale's two little brothers

the Seam. I try to remember

idea

is

so

too, because how would

us? Who would fill those mouths

for more? With

both

of us hunting

that are daily,

I

that when all I can see is the

woman who sat by, blank and unreachable, dren turned

The

and a sister. Prim. And you

may as well throw in our mothers,

always asking

for

respond.

They're not our kids, of course. But they might as well

She must

to' leave her home

to

"If we didn't have so many kids," he adds quickly.

they live without

have really loved him

how

preposterous.

herbs and sell them to her shop to be brewed into remedies. .

while her chil-

to skin and bones. I try to forgive her for my

father's sake. But to be honest, I'm not the forgi~,ing type. Gale spreads the bread slices with the soft goat cheese, 8

the mountains

carefully placing a basil leaf on each while I strip the bushes

there are still nights when game has to be swapped for lard or shoelaces or wool, still nights when we go to bed with our stomachs growling. "I never want to have kids," I say. "I might. If I didn't live here," says Gale. "But you do," I say, irritated.

We make out well. The predators

"Forget it," he snaps back. The conversation

feels all wrong.

Leave? How could I

By late morning,

we have

leave Prim, who is the only person in the world I'm certain

a dozen fish, a bag of greens and, best of all, a gallon of

I love? And Gale is devoted to his family. We can't leave, so

strawberries.

why bother talking about it? And even if we did ...

had the idea to string

we did ...

where

did this stuff

about

from? There's never been anything

having

romantic

even if

kids come

between

Gale

and me. When we met, I was a skinny twelve-year-old,

and

although

he was only two years older, he already looked

like a man.

It took a long time for us to even become

friends, to stop haggling over every trade and begin helping

Besides, if he wants kids, Gale won't have any trouble finding handle

a wife. He's good-looking,

he's strong

enough

to

the work in the mines, and he can hunt. You can

tell by the way the girls whisper about him when he walks by in school that they want him. It makes me jealous but not for the reason people would think.

Good hunting

part-

the patch a few years ago, but Gale mesh nets around

it to keep out

the animals. On the way home, we swing by the Hob, the black market that operates in an abandoned

warehouse

that once held

oal. When they came up with a more efficient system that transported

the coal directly from the mines to the trains,

the Hob gradually took over the space. Most businesses are

till fairly busy. We easily trade six of the fish for good bread, woman

the other

two for salt. Greasy

Sae, the bony old

who sells bowls of hot soup from a large kettle,

takes half the greens off our hands in exchange for a couple f chunks of paraffin.

We might do a tad better elsewhere,

but we make an effort to keep on good terms with Greasy ae. She's the only one who can consistently

ners are hard to find. "What do you want to do?" I ask. We can hunt, fish, or

be counted

o buy wild dog. We don't hunt them on purpose,

on

but if

you're attacked and you take out a dog or two, well, meat is

gather. "Let's fish at the lake. We can leave our poles and gather in the woods. Get something

I found

losed by this time on reaping day, but the black market's

each other out.

nice for tonight,"

he says.

Tonight. After the reaping, everyone is supposed

to cele-

brate. And a lot of people do, out of relief that their children have been spared for another

1B

when easier, tastier prey abounds.

ignore us on a day

year. But at least two

meat. "Once

it's in the soup, I'll call it beef," Greasy Sae

says with a wink. No one in the Seam would turn up their nose at a good leg of wild dog, but the Peacekeepers

who

ome to the Hob can afford to be a little choosier. When

we finish our business

at the market,

we go to

families will pull their shutters, lock their doors, and try to

the back door of the mayor's house to sell half the strawber-

figure out how they will survive the painful weeks to come.

ries, knowing

he has a particular

fondness for them and can 11

afford our price. The mayor's daughter,

Madge,

opens the

door. She's in my year at school. Being the mayor's daughter, you'd expect her to be a snob, but she's all right. She just keeps to herself. Like me. Since. neither of us really has a group

of friends,

school. Eating blies, partnering

we seem to end up together

lunch,

sitting

a lot at

next to each other at assem-

for Sports activities. We rarely talk, which

suits. us both just fine.

We walk toward

ale took a dig at Madge,

by an

expensive white dress, and her blonde hair is done up with a pink ribbon. Reaping clothes.

but he's right, of course. The

reaping system is unfair, with the poor getting the worst of it. You become

eligible for the reaping

the day you turn

twelve. That year, your name is entered once. At thirteen, twice. And so on and so on until you reach the age of.eighteen, the final year of eligibility, when your name goes into he pool seven times.

Today her drab school outfit has been replaced

the Seam in silence. I don't like' that

That's

true for every citizen

ewelve districts in the entire country

of Panem.

But here's the catch. Say you are poor and starving we were. You can opt to add your name

"Pretty dress," says Gale.

in all

as

more times in

xchange for tesserae. Each tessera is worth a meager year's Madge shoots him a look, trying to see if it's a genuine compliment

or if he's just being ironic. It is a pretty dress,

but she would never be wearing it ordinarily. lips together

She presses her

and then smiles. "Well, if I end up going to

the Capitol, I want to look nice, don't I?" Now it's Gale's turn to be confused.

says Gale coolly.

His eyes land on a small, circular pin that adorns her dress. Real gold. Beautifully bread for months.

crafted.

"What

It could keep a family in

can you have? Five entries? I had

six when I was just twelve years old." "That's not her fault," I say. "No, it's no one's fault. Just the way it is," says Gale. Madge's face has become closed off. She puts the money for the berries in my hand. "Good luck, Katniss." II

"You, too," I say, and the door closes.

ach of your family l welve,

members

as well. So, at the age of

I had my name entered four times. Once, because I

had to, and three times for tesserae for grain and oil for myself, Prim,

Does she mean it?

Or is she messing with him? I'm guessing the second. "You won't be going to the Capitol,"

upply of grain and oil for one person, You may do this for

and my mother.

In fact, every year I have

needed to do this. And the entries are cumulative.

So now,

ne the age of sixteen, my name will be in the reaping twenty rimes. Gale, who is eighteen and has been either helping or single-handedly

feeding a family of five for seven years, will

have his name in forty-two

times.

You can see why someone

like ·Madge,

who has never

h en at risk of needing a tessera, can set him off. The chance of her name being drawn is very slim compared us who live in the Seam. Not impossible,

rven though

to those of

but slim. And

the rules were set up by the Capitol,

not the

li tricts, certainly not Madge's family, it's hard not to resent t hose

who don't have to sign up for tesserae.

1.3

Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected.

On other

days, deep in the woods, I've listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred

between

the starving

workers

in at the back. A tub of warm water waits for me. I scrub off the dirt and sweat from the woods and even wash my hair. To my

of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper

surprise,

and thereby

dresses for me. A soft blue thing with matching

ensure we will never trust

to the Capitol's

advantage

one another.

to have us divided

"It's

among our-

my mother

has laid out one of her own lovely

"Are you sure?" I ask. I'm trying

selves," he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine.

offers of help from her. For a while,

If it wasn't reaping

wouldn't allow her to do anything

day. If a girl with a gold pin and no

tesserae had not made what

I'm sure she thought

was a

harmless comment. As we walk, I glance over at Gale's face, still smoldering underneath

his stony expression. His rages seem pointless to

her towel-dry

him. I do. But what good is yelling about the Capitol in the

the wall.

make

things

fair. It doesn't

fill our stomachs.

scares off the nearby game. I let him yell though.

It doesn't In fact, it Better he

Gale and I divide our spoils, leaving two fish, a couple

paraffin,

I was so angry,

I

for me. And this is some-

it and braid it up on my head. I can hardly

myself in the cracked

"You look beautiful," "And nothing

mirror

that leans against

says Prim in a hushed voice.

like myself," I say. I hug her, because I

know these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first r aping. She's about as safe as you can get, since she's only

does it in the woods than in the district.

of loaves of good bread, greens, a quart of strawberries,

to get past rejecting

to her. "Of course. Let's put your hair up, too," she says. I let

recognize

middle of the woods? It doesn't change anything.

shoes.

thing special. Her clothes from her past are very precious

I never say so. It's not that I don't agree with

me, although

salt,

and a bit of money for each.

.ntered once. I wouldn't she's worried

about

let her take out any tesserae. But

me.

That

the

unthinkable

might

"See you in the square," I say.

happen. I protect

"Wear something

against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she's in

pretty," he says flatly.

At home, I find my mother

and sister are ready to go.

Prim in every way I can, but I'm powerless

pain wells up in my chest and threatens

to register on my

days.

race. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the

Prim is in my first reaping outfit, a skirt and ruffled blouse.

back again and force myself to stay calm. "Tuck your tail

It's a bit big on her, but my mother

In, little duck," I say, smoothing

My mother

1'1

pins. Even so, she's having trouble keeping the blouse tucked

wears a fine dress from her apothecary

has made it stay with

the blouse back in place. 1~

Prim giggles and gives me a small "Quack." "Quack

yourself,"

hands. But there are others, too, who have no one they love

I say with a light laugh.

The kind

only Prim can draw out of me. "Come on, let's eat," I say and plant a quick kiss on the top of her head. The fish and greens are already cooking

at stake, or who no longer care, who slip among the crowd, taking

bets on the two kids whose names will be drawn.

dds are given on their ages, whether in a stew, but

they're Seam or mer-

hant, if they will break down and weep. Most refuse deal-

that will be for supper. We decide to save the strawberries

ing with the racketeers

and bakery bread for this evening's meal, to make it special

people tend to be informers,

we say. Instead we drink milk from Prim's goat, Lady, and

I could be shot on a daily basis for hunting,

eat the rough bread made from the tessera grain, although no one has much appetite anyway.

unless you are on death's

officials will come around

is

door. This evening,

and check to see if this is the

case. If not, you'll be imprisoned.

square -

one of the few places in District

pleasant.

The square's surrounded

in the

12 that can be

by shops, and on public

market days, especially if there's good weather, it has a holiday feel to it. But today, despite the bright banners hanging

crews, perched effect.

there's an air of grimness.

like buzzards

The camera

on roof tops, only add to the

.

for the Capitol to keep tabs on the population

as well. Twelve- through

eighteen-year-olds

are herded into

roped areas marked off by ages, the oldest in the front, the young

Anyway,

ones, like Prim, toward

Gale and I agree that if we have to choose

between dying of hunger and a bullet in the head, the bullet would be much quicker.

rrive. The

the back. Family members

line up around the perimeter, holding tightly to one another's

square's

are directed

more claustrophobic

as people

quite large, but not enough

District 12's population

of about eight thousand.

to the adjacent

to hold

Latecomers

streets, where they can watch

the event on screens as it's televised live by the state. I find myself standing

in a clump of sixteens from the

Seam. We all exchange terse nods then focus our attention on the temporary Building.

People file in silently and sign in. The reaping is a good opportunity

but the appe-

ites of those in charge protect me. Not everyone can claim

The space gets tighter,

It's too bad, really, that they hold the reaping

on the buildings,

and who hasn't broken the law?

the same.

At one o'clock, we head for the square. Attendance mandatory

but carefully, carefully. These same

stage that

is set up before the Justice

It holds three chairs,

a podium,

and two large

zlass balls, one for the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper

slips in the girls' ball. Twenty

of them

have

I atniss Everdeen written on them in careful handwriting. Two of the three chairs fill with Madge's father, Mayor Undersee,

who's a tall, balding

man,

and Effie Trinket,

1 istrict 12's escort, fresh from the Capitol

with her scary 11

white

grin,

murmur

pinkish

hair,

and

spring

green

suit.

They

to each other and then look with concern

at the

Just as the town dock strikes two, the mayor steps up to

that rose

and sacrifice them and there's

you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy

To make it humiliating

as well as torturous,

the Capitol

r quires us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sport-

up out of the ashes of a place that was once called North

ing event pitting

America. He lists the disasters, the droughts,

the storms, the

tribute alive receives a life of ease back home, and their dis-

up so much of

trier will be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food.

fires, the encroaching

seas that swallowed

the land, the brutal war for what little sustenance

remained.

The result was Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which brought Then

peace and prosperity Days, the uprising

of the districts

the Capitol.

Twelve were defeated,

the thirteenth

obliterated. guarantee

that the Dark

Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger The rules of the Hunger

Games.

Games are simple. In punish-

"It is both a time for repentance

Then

he reads the list of past District

seventy-four

still alive. Haymitch man, who

at this

nintelligible,

Abernathy, moment

staggers

third chair. He's drunk.

will be imprisoned

arena that could hold anything a frozen wasteland. competitors

Over

in a vast outdoor

from a burning

a period

desert to

of several weeks,

the

must fight to the death. The last tribute stand-

. one another reminding chance

In

token applause,

onto

a paunchy,

appears the stage,

hollering

middle-aged something

and falls into

Very. The crowd responds with

but he's confused

the its

and tries to give Effie

Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off. The mayor looks distressed. t -I vised,

right

now District

Since all of this is being 12 is the laughingstock

of

l'anern, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the atten-

ing wins. Taking

12 victors.

years, we have had exactly two. Only one is

vide one girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. tributes

and a time for thanks,"

intones the mayor.

11

twenty-four

district gifts of

f us battle starvation.

ment for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must proThe

against the others. The last

Train and oil and even delicacies like sugar while the rest

The Treaty of Treason gave us the new laws to peace and, as our yearly reminder

every district

All year, the Capitol will show the winning

to its citizens.

came the Dark

against

18

"Look

very last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen."

and begins to read. It's the same story every

year. He tells of the history of Pane m, the country

words they use, the real message is dear.

how we take your children nothing

empty seat.

the podium

Whatever

the kids from our districts, while we watch -

forcing them to kill

this is the Capitol's way of

us how totally we are at their mercy. How little

we would

stand

of surviving

another

rebellion.

I ion

back to the reaping by introducing Bright

podium

and bubbly

Effie Trinket.

as ever, Effie Trinket

and gives het signature;

"Happy

trots to the

Hunger

Games!

And may the odds be ever in your favorl" Her pink hair

l~

must be a wig because her curls have shifted center since her encounter about what an honor

with Haymitch.

slightly off-

She goes on a bit

it is to be here, although

knows she's just aching to get bumped

everyone

up to a better dis-

trict where they have proper victors, not drunks who molest you in front of the entire nation. Through

the crowd,

I spot Gale looking

back at me

with a ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight entertainment Gale and his forty-two

factor. But suddenly I am thinking

of

names in that big glass ball and how

the odds are not in his favor. Not compared boys. And maybe he's thinking

to a lot of the

the same thing

about me

because his face darkens and he turns away. "But there are still thousands It's time

of slips," I wish I could whisper to him. for the drawing.

Effie Trinket

says as she

always does, "Ladies first!" and crosses to the glass ball with the girls' names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I'm feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it's not me, that it's not me, that it's not me. Effie Trinket

crosses back to the podium,

smoothes

the

slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And

.,

It S not me. It's Primrose Everdeen.

lB